


Follow Me Down

by jinxed_lulu



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Epilogue? What epilogue?, Established Relationship, Future Fic, HP: EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-01
Updated: 2012-10-01
Packaged: 2017-11-15 10:52:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinxed_lulu/pseuds/jinxed_lulu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No matter the case, Harry has always thought himself justified to dislike Potions. Nothing good has ever come from this class for him, and if it wasn't for the sneaky blond he would have dropped the class.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Follow Me Down

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

_"Everything happens to everybody sooner or later if there is time enough." ~ George Bernard Shaw_

* * *

Potions, thought Harry, has to be the worst class. The only good that ever came from stepping into that dungeon room, was that his partner was his boyfriend, Draco Malfoy.

It was something that nobody had seen coming, well, besides Hermione, maybe. In Harry’s mind all he’d wanted to do was drop by Malfoy Manor and return the slimey git’s wand, then be done with him – that’s what he told himself anyway. He didn’t anticipate that when he would see Malfoy again, that he’d look so much worse than their sixth year and that was the year his skin had taken on a grayish tone with dark and heavy bags under his eyes. Somewhere deep inside of himself, he felt like he couldn’t just hand over Malfoy’s wand and just wash his hands of the boy. Instead he gave him a small uncertain smile and tried to start a conversation, and their friendship bloomed from there.

Both he and Draco couldn’t tell you when the attraction had started, for all he knew it had always been there under the surface, buried deeply waiting to be found. Though neither of them acted on it until they were back at Hogwarts. One night they both fell asleep in the Room of Requirement and somehow during the night had gotten tangled together. When they had awoke, neither moved or breathed—seeming to wait to see what the other would do. And Harry rooted deep within himself for his Gryffindor courage and tentatively pressed his lips to Draco’s. The kiss itself had shocked the other boy, for he didn’t respond, thinking he’d made a mistake, Harry decided to pull back and hide for the rest of the day. That’s when Malfoy’s brain seemed to catch on to what was happening and pulled him back down to meet his lips and turned the whole thing into the best snogging Harry had ever experienced.

Shaking himself out of the memory he entered the classroom he hated most.

**O~O~O~O**

Inside Draco was already at their station, sitting and taking down the notes that were on the board. While squinting to see the words and copying them himself, he decided to ask the blond if he had any idea what they were going to brew today.

“Any idea what this does?” he asked, using his hand to motion towards to front of the class.

Draco looked over at him with a smirk on his face, and for once he didn’t want to slap it off his face; he didn’t look smug or as if he was better than Harry. “Didn’t you study this, Potter,” he teased. “It is another form of the Sleeping Draught. Only this one is a tad stronger.”

“Oh,” was all he said eloquently. It looked to be one of those days—where he got the ingredients and stayed away from the brewing as much a humanly possible. If they wanted to pass, anyway.

Their conversation was ended by Professor Slughorn waddling into the classroom, smiling happily at any of the students he was overly fond of—sadly this included himself. He just couldn’t seem to shake off Slughorn, obviously made worse by defeating Lord Voldemort.

“Today we’ll be making a…” Harry let the teacher’s voice fade out as he began to doodle on his parchment. This was the one thing he missed about partnering with Ron; he would be doing the same thing as he himself was about now, only they’d be playing hangman together.

He sighed and looked up when he felt a sharp jab to his ribs. “ _What?!_ ” he whisper yelled to Draco.

“Must you never pay attention?” he seemingly asked himself, carrying on not waiting for an answer, “of course you must, even when it is for a grade. Harry, were going to start working on the potion, and I _need_ you to get the ingredients.”

With a nod and a quite murmurer of, “mmhmm,” he stood and walked over to the cabinet. This was sadly his favorite part of class, he and Ron always ended up in the cabinet together and spent a short time talking—well more like complaining to each other.

He felt something nudge his shoulder, and looked over to see Ron. “Malfoy sure didn’t look happy…”

“I wasn’t paying attention, at all. More like doodling and wanting to play hangman,” he replied smiling ruefully.

“Ah, that’d do it,” he snorted. “Every time it even looks like I’m going to check out from the lesson, Hermione kicks me under the table.” He nodded seriously.

They met each other’s eyes, and had to turn away quickly to stifle their laughter. This was one of the many cons for working together: they never could not find something to laugh about. Especially if it was Goyle having a painful accident…every other lesson.

Talking for a few more minutes, till it would have been noticeable that they actually had all of the things they needed from the cabinet and were just loitering in the corner talking and joking with one another, they went back to their tables. Always with the whispered words of ‘good luck.’ Ron and Harry might have partners who were intelligent in Potions—but they were hopeless in the subject.

The actual brewing of the potion was as always a quiet affair. Harry chopping the ingredients and handing them over to Draco, as he would add the correct amount and stir it in the proper direction, however many times needed.

When the potion was almost finished and bell about to ring, Harry noticed the blond was looking at him with an odd gleam in his eyes. Thinking this wouldn’t bode well for himself, he muttered a soft, “hmmmm?”

“Well,” Draco drawled. “I was thinking that even _you_ could not mess it up at this point.” He stopped to snicker at his joke—he himself didn’t find it funny. “So I want you to stir this three times clockwise and then, put it in the vile to be handed in.”

He stayed looking at Draco with a blank look, only blinking a few times in shock. He really didn’t want to do this, if only because Malfoy had said he _couldn’t_ mess it up at this stage, which instantly meant that he _could_ and _would_. And if his boyfriend didn’t have that sweet looking hopeful look on his face, he would have told him to bugger off. He still hadn’t found a way to say no to him, when his grayish-blue eyes were bright and he looked so pleased with himself or his latest idea. With a grimace on his lips, Harry then decided he’d forever be a hopeless pushover for Draco Malfoy.

“O-ookay,” he shuddered unsure of himself. “Yes, yes, I can do this,” he said more firmly when the man next to him smiled comfortingly—finishing the sentence under his breath and to only himself. “But I probably won’t.”

Really he should have known better—with all of Draco’s high hopes sitting on his shoulders, it caused his hands to start shaking. So when he started stirring it was all wrong and then bottling the small amount of potion went even more terrible. He’d somehow spilled some onto himself and his partner. To him this wasn’t a big deal, he’d done _worse_ things.

Or he really should have known it wouldn’t be that easy, not with his luck. He really should remember in times like these he was, _Harry James Potter_. Because if the pain he was in and the shrieking screams coming from himself and Draco were anything to go by; he’d just surpassed his worst.

**O~O~O~O**

Harry’s mind was a bit fuzzy when he woke up and looked around the Potions room. He blinked a few times, and noticed that his boyfriend was coming around himself. Immediately he looked toward the front of the class to ask Professor Slughorn _what the fuck just happened!_ only to find… Professor Snape. With that he promptly screamed bloody murder.

“Bloody hell, Potter,” said Draco in a peevish tone. “What are you yelling about _now?!_ ”

He tried to talk, he really did. The only thing it would do was open and close; doing a pretty nicely done impression of a fish, if he did say so. And finally his voice answered his command again. “S-s-snape,” he croaked out.

“Did you hit your head when you fell?” he cooed. It seemed his boyfriend was no longer annoyed with him and now worried.

Well, Harry reasoned, if someone had told them they’d seen Severus Snape he’d probably wonder about them, too. Either way this did not change the fact that, Snape, _the bat of the dungeon_ , was standing in front of him.

“No, _no_ ,” stressed Harry, sounding hysterical to his own ears. Sticking his arm out and pointing to the man just to stress his point he continued, “look, I swear to God, he’s right there. And he doesn’t look happy, Malfoy!”

Obviously thinking that Harry had gone nutters from their fall, Draco seemed to deem this information unworthy. Not bothering to turn around and see the man for himself, he crawled over to Harry, facing him, and used his left hand to cup his cheek, while carding the right through his hair. “Shhhh, shhh,” he whispered, his face so open and sweet. “We’ll get you to the Hospital Wing, and you’ll be better.” It seemed that Malfoy had realized that his boyfriend hadn’t even bothered to look at him—still busy looking past him, his eyes widened to the size of Galleons. Tilting his face just so, they were now making eye contact. He kissed his forehead before talking again. “There’s nothing to be frightened about…”

Finally it seemed Snape had enough with them making a scene in his classroom, and decided it was time to speak. “Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, would either of you like to explain what is going on?”

It was now Malfoy’s turn to have his eyes bug out and drop his jaw. “S-snape?”

“ _I_ told you,” muttered Harry sulkily. 

It was then, when he’d calmed down some he decided to take in his surroundings, while Draco took his turn looking foolish in front of the man. Just from their cloaks he could tell it was a class of Gryffindors and Slytherins—holding his breath, he looked at their faces. He could have happily fainted to escape this nightmare. There towards the front of the class was a younger version of himself and Ron looking dumbfounded—gaping at them. Hermione was close by, but she even had a calculating look upon her face with her shock.

On the whole, the best by far, had to be Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. Just looking at their faces had him biting his tongue to fight off his laughter. In their shock both Crabbe and Goyle looked far more trollish and stupid than ever. And Malfoy, he looked as if he didn’t know whether or not to be sick or pleased. To Harry it looked like he was trying to sneer and smile at the same time—it really didn’t go well with his greenish skin tone.

As far too usual, his thoughts were interrupted by a sharp and painful jab to his ribs. He just responded by looking at the blond questioningly.

“ _What are you doing?!_ ” he hissed.

He rolled his eyes. “Looking at the class. Their faces are pretty funny, y’know?” he replied with the air of one commenting on the weather. “I have to say that being in the same room with one’s self, is, pretty _odd_. Not that it’s the first time it has happened to _me_.” Tapping his chin he pretended to be in deep thought, “how old do we look to you?”

There was now a dull flush working itself up Draco’s neck and cheeks. It would seem that he’d taken the joke a bit too far—it wasn’t his fault per se, he was used to these things happening to him, yearly. After he took a few moments to panic, he’d get a hang on what was going on, then realize he’d get out of the situation _somehow_. Only this time he didn’t have Ron with him to laugh at the joke or Hermione to roll her eyes while taking in every detail of the situation. No it was just his poor boyfriend, who’d never gotten sucked into one of Harry’s adventures, and was trying to keep his cool, but the panic bubbling under the surface was about to boil over… Then he’d yell at Harry. It would seem that until he got the blond a bit more calm, he should act a tad more seriously.

“Sorry,” he muttered, before clearing his throat. “Wrong time for humor.” He shrugged his shoulders and gave the blond a sheepish smile, while looking at him from under his bangs. That always seemed to soften him up a little. “Not exactly sure what happened. Well, to be fair, I know what happened, just not how it landed us here. Bugger.”

“Perhaps,” said Snape, in his deadly soft voice. “You, Potter, could tell us what happened, before you ended up being here in my classroom, causing a disturbance.” He finished nastily.

Harry took a deep breath; he refused to rise to this man’s bait. He now knew what this man had risked to make sure Lily Evans son had a future and was safe from harm. Severus Snape may not be the most pleasant man, but there was a heart hidden underneath all that black and stone. Or as Dumbledore had said in the old memory—“ _My word, Severus, that I shall never reveal the best of you?_ ” And if he’d never like the man, he’d always respect him, and honor how brave he was.

He looked the man straight in the eye, letting him use Legilimency, to be fair the man might notice something that he did not notice at the time. “We,” he said pointing to himself and the blond, “were brewing a potion, extended or advanced version of the Sleeping Draught. When it was almost done, Draco told me to stir it three times clockwise—then to bottle it to be graded.” He shook his head self-deprecatingly, with a grim smile on his face. “Draco here, told me that ‘not even you, could screw this up,’ so that just made my nerves flair, because of course, now I would.” Snorting he continued, “the stirring went okay, a little shaky at best. It was when I was putting it in the vile that I spilled some on the skin of our hands… Thinking that it was just a Sleeping Draught, there couldn’t be much harm in the spill—sadly I was wrong.”

“We started screaming,” said Draco shakily, picking up for him. “The pain… The pain, it was horrid. I had no idea what was going on; being that I was frightened for myself and Harry. Next thing I know is, we’re both waking up on the floor and Harry was screaming as if he was under the Cruciatus Curse again.” Here those in the classroom who knew what this particular curse did gasped, even Snape seem to startle at its mention. Those like Ron and himself looked around confused. “What was even more worrying was that he said he saw _you_ ,” he said looking pointedly at Snape. “I thought the fall may have addled his brain, you know. It wasn’t until you spoke that I finally believed him, so what I’d like to know is how we got from October of 1998 to October of 1993.”

Looking at Malfoy in confusion, he just decided to risk missing the obvious and get teased and ask. “How’d you know it was 1993?”

“My arm,” answered Draco promptly—willing away his blush. As the real answer to him, was this year Harry had filled out more and his face had become more masculine. This was the year his little crush started. Clearing his throat he finished. “Remember when that great Oaf’s bloody chicken tried to _kill_ me!”

Harry was not so stupid as to not notice the distraction tactic. He rarely said a bad word against Hagrid anymore—not that he actually _liked_ the man or anything. It was just he now understood how much Hagrid meant to him, how much he loved the half-giant like family. But that didn’t mean he had to embarrass him here. So he just pursed his lips and gave him a look. “Oh, should’ve noticed that myself.” 

Nodding seriously to himself, he began thinking, if it was October of 1993 that meant… It finally clicked, and again he found himself doing a perfect impression of a wide-eyed fish. To him it felt as if his throat had closed up and wanted nothing more than prevent him from spitting out what he had to say. “T-t-t-third year,” he finally croaked. Draco nodded slowly giving him a sad smile. “So… So that would mean, Sirius Black has just escaped Azkaban.” Tilting his head to the side, he bit his lip to stop his mouth from forming a smile—he would so visit Snuffles and bring that mutt some food. Even if his bossy boyfriend told him no. It wasn’t like the little git knew how to get into the Shrieking Shack.

“Yes, love, I’m afraid so,” he said softly. He knew that Sirius was innocent; hell Harry even told him the stories about the Marauder’s. How his own father James Potter was Prongs; that Remus Lupin – Professor Lupin who was teaching at this very moment—was Moony; then there was his wonderful Godfather, Sirius Black, was Padfoot—the loveable grim. They were so close, Harry was pretty sure he loved the Slytherin boy, that he’d even shown him the Map along with his Invisibility Cloak (thank god that both were with him right now).

So really, only he knew that the sad tone was for everything that he couldn’t change. Like killing Peter, squishing that stupid rat; an event that should be shared between godson and godfather. Oh and you know, “so, there’s Dementors in the castle, wonderful.”

When the words had finished coming out of his mouth, there was a ruckus of laughter from the Slytherin side of the classroom. Next being the younger Malfoy opening his mouth. “That’s too good! Potty is still afraid of the wee little Dementors years from now!”

The words had many reactions: his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle laughed dully, as if they had no idea why they _should_ find it funny; his younger self’s face crumbled in shame, yet a spark of anger flared in his emerald eyes; Hermione’s face had a sneer on it while glaring hatefully at Malfoy, before putting a hand on the young boy’s shoulder; Ron, he knew he could always count on Ron—his ears got redder than his hair and you could hear him shout over the laughter, “shut it Malfoy, ye bloody git!”

Personally, he thought, the best or worse, was _his_ Malfoy’s reaction. There was a malicious spark beginning to brighten in his grey eyes—truly this never did bode well for anyone it was directed towards. Draco’s nose was scrunched up as if he smelled something particularly nasty, and the sneer on his face was the worst he’d ever seen, if you asked his opinion. “They may not be his _favorite_ , creature of all,” he said in a cold drawling voice; the one that Harry had heard many of times during his earlier years at school. “He just now doesn’t want to bother dealing with them, as he can cast a corporal Patronus,” he smirked before finishing with a flourish. “One of the most powerful ones to date. When did you first cast it love?”

Looking down to hide the dull pink flush that was painting itself across his face, he looked up at boyfriend from under his lashes. Wetting his lips before answering, “I, er, first cast my first corporal Patronus, at a Quidditch game – but for the answer you want, it would be in, er, June of 1994, it drove away around one hundred Dementors.”

“See?” he crowed, to their shocked faces. “My Harry did that when he was only thirteen! Most Wizards and Witches have a hard time producing a Patronus Charm, when they are seventeen and out of school.” The only part that he ever liked about when Draco bragged about him, was how he always got possessive and never really knew it. Almost like he had to say, no matter what wonderful things he does or has done, don’t you ever forget that he is mine. That was the part that had always warmed his insides; as mushy as it sounds.

“ _’Your Harry’ _?” said Ron furiously, glaring at everything and nothing. “What on Earth does that foul evil little git, mean?”__

__Hermione turned to look at him piteously. “Oh, Ronald.”_ _

__She probably would have gone on, had Draco not seen this and answered for himself. Harry wasn’t sure if this would be better or worse in the end. So he did all he could at the moment; looked heavenward and prayed it would neither embarrass him or anger someone else._ _

__“Yes Weasley,” he answered in his most dismissive tone of voice. “ _My Harry_. Seeing as I’ve done nothing but act as a very loving boyfriend from the moment we dropped into this living nightmare, one would think, that even you would be able to see that – He. Is. Mine.”_ _

__Closing his eyes, as if he could not see what would happen next, it would stop the inevitable from happening. It was times like these that he most dearly wished Draco could remember that Ron almost always took everything snarky that came out of his mouth as an insult. Personally. His best mate, who was currently eighteen and waiting for him at home, was slowly getting over this—finally realizing that it was just Malfoy’s way. That the only people to really ever see him without his mask and vulnerable, was Harry and Draco’s mother, Narcissa Malfoy. Sadly, Ron Weasley at thirteen did not know any of this. To him, _hell_ , to the Harry Potter and Hermione Granger of this time, anything that was spoken to any of the three of them out of the Malfoy boy’s mouth _was_ an insult, personal or otherwise. So what did he expect to happen, surely not them to just brush it off and snark back?_ _

__Narrowing his eyes in thought, it seemed as if the blond missed sparing with Ron or any Gryffindor really. Maybe he did—they may be together and Draco might be hiding a soft and loving heart under that cold stone mask, but this didn’t mean that he wasn’t particularly vicious._ _

__In the end it was not Ron’s voice that reached his ears next. No, it was Snape’s._ _

__“I’d hold your tongue if I were you, Weasley,” he said smoothly. “Don’t want detention do we? And I doubt the precious Gryffindor’s would like it if you lost them thirty points.”_ _

__He knew that the laughter would come from the green and sliver side of the room before it even happened. Also he couldn’t be sure, but he thought both Hermione and his younger self stepped on a foot each, just to make sure Ron stayed shut up. Thank God._ _

__“Now,” continued Snape silkily, addressing Draco and himself. “I think a visit to Dumbledore’s office. Maybe he’ll know what to do with you.”_ _

__Finally Harry remembered that in this time – for a few years yet – Professor Dumbledore was simply not a portrait in the circular office. Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he gave his boyfriend the most depressing stare he’d ever worn on his face to date._ _

__

____

**O~O~O~O**

Sitting in Dumbledore’s office was, well, awkward. For himself it had been some time since he’d been sitting in front of flesh and bone, a little over a year. Then there was poor Draco, and his task from Lord Voldemort to kill the old guy in their sixth year. Even if his boyfriend hadn’t said the words to kill Albus Dumbledore, he still felt guilt for it. That and letting Death Eaters into the school.

Still, even with the top emotion that Harry was feeling, was all encompassing joy, this was still one odd and stilted tea party. Though he had to admit, it would always be ten times better than spending time with Moaning Myrtle.

“Well, Harry m’boy, you’re looking good all things considered. You too, Mr. Malfoy,” said Dumbledore serenely. “Would anyone care for a lemon drop?”

Shaking his head in the negative, the blond answered. “No thank you.”

“Yes, please,” he answered with a smile just as serene as the older man.

The raised eye-brow was the only sign of his shock. “Really?” he asked pushing the bowl over to Harry.

Looking at Dumbledore, he smiled brilliantly. “Oh, yes,” he said happily, popping the lemon candy into his mouth. “I’ve long since discovered the secret as to why you liked them so much. I must agree, works wonders – and like you, Sir, I don’t seem to find anyone who’ll indulge with me… Pity.”

It was then that Dumbledore looked at him, his eyes twinkling merrily, that Harry saw just how deeply that love and care he felt for him went. Really it must have just about felt as if he were being ripped apart from the inside sending Harry to his death, unknowing if he’d live for sure – as he’d once said: the connection between Voldemort and himself was unknown and unexplained.

“Then it’ll just be our secret then, wont it?” he asked.

Harry nodded back, with a small smile. “Yes, that it will. They’re loss anyway, really.”

The older man looked at him softly and laughed fondly, and Harry couldn’t help but join in with him, this moment took far too long to happen, if he were being honest. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Malfoy and Snape were looking at the two of them as if they were completely nutters—and maybe they were. In Harry’s mind, they had both achieved something that was painstakingly hard, defeating the darkest wizards of their time. Each their own personal weight on their chest, so if they had to be a little eccentric, who the hell was to deny them.

“Well boys, Professor Snape and myself, will be looking into how it was you managed to send yourselves back in time and how to get you home,” he smiled like a man who enjoyed a good adventure and mystery—he was, they both were. “Till then, you’ll just have to enjoy your little adventure that life has sent you upon. You are free to venture off to Hogsmead as you are of age.” It was here that his face became grim and serious, “I do not think that I have to impress upon you the dangers of this time, so please be careful.”

“Sir, if I may ask, where will we be staying?” he asked quickly.

“Yes, you will not be able to sleep in either the Gryffindor or Slytherin dorms,” he said quietly. “You will have a room set up for you to share after dinner; there is one for guests of the castle by the kitchens. I’ll have Professor McGonagall take you there.”

“Thank you, sir,” he said. “I think that I’ll go visit Hagrid now, and whenever you have the time, I’d love to see you, too.”

Dumbledore looked at him with such a fond look on his face, it almost hurt to look at it. “Of course Harry m’boy. Needn’t ask.”

**O~O~O~O**

The walk to Hagrid’s hut was quiet. It felt as if the short meeting in Dumbledore’s office had drained him emotionally, but he knew he had to go on. Couldn’t let this take some of the joy away from this little vacation in the past. To him, this felt like a living breathing pensive memory, like if he blinked he’d be spit back into his own time.

It was only the solid weight of Draco’s hand in his own, that grounded him. That’s because it was solid and warm, and every now and then, he’d squeeze Harry’s – silently letting him know that he was there for him. Really he wasn’t sure if Draco would ever know just how much he meant to him, how glad he was to have him here.

He took a deep breath before knocking on the door; he knew of course that Hagrid would know that Harry Potter from the future was walking the castle grounds. Nothing stayed secret in Hogwarts… Well not _everything_.

“Back Fang, back,” they could hear coming through the door. When he opened the door and saw who it was, the smile on his face brightened, but dimmed some seeing the blond. “Harry good ter see yeh! Heard yeh was around, come on in.”

He spent a good hour talking with Hagrid. Gladly the man didn’t seem to mind when he had to be vague as to not spill much about the future. Hagrid was just pleased to hear that the Wizarding World had a brighter future than it was looking. All he would say about it really was that Voldemort was no more, not want to spill that he was the man who actually rid the world of the Snake Man – or the the little thirteen-year-old Harry Potter sitting inside the castle would someday be told of his destiny, that: _neither could live, while the other survives_.

Draco even spoke up a little bit. One of the biggest things he did, was apologize to Hagrid for his horrid behavior the past two and half years, and the next few years to come. Harry was very proud of him for this. It even looked as if Hagrid wanted to hug the boy, but thought better of it and just settled for a smile of forgiveness. Even still, Harry stood and gave the man the hug he so rightly deserved – he’d never thought badly of him ever, always stood on his side proudly. The love and loyalty that he had from Hagrid was one no other besides Albus Dumbledore could ever hope to achieve.

When they were on their way out the door, he had one last thing the man had to know. And he wouldn’t feel right if he just left without saying it.

“Hagrid,” he spoke softly. “The thirteen-year-old me, loves you greatly. He may have never said it, but he feels it. And through the years it has only gotten stronger, I still come every Saturday for tea and whenever I feel down I make sure to stop by, because you can always cheer me up when no one else can. To me, Hagrid, we not be blood, but we sure as hell are family. Even when I no longer attend Hogwarts, I will come by if only to visit you.”

As soon as he finished what he had to say, he was caught in one of Hagrid’s famous rib crushing hugs. He could also feel some of Hagrids tears wet his hair.

“Love yeh, too, Harry,” he whispered into his ear.

**O~O~O~O**

After Professor McGonagall took them to their room, and gave Harry a stern talking to about getting into trouble, that she had a small smile during, he decided to visit Remus.

This was something he felt the need to do alone. So Draco stayed in the rooms till he got back, even so, he could tell the blond felt secretly relieved. Not that he had any opinion either way about the man, he just knew he wouldn’t feel comfortable around him. He was just as nasty about him as he’d ever been Hagrid, but he made amends to the Care of Magical Creature’s teacher before having to face his past self. Then there was the fact that no matter how little he wanted to join the Death Eaters or liked serving under the mad man, he still bore the same mark as the man who did and would here, kill Remus Lupin.

So, no, Harry didn’t even think uncomfortable was the word for it.

He knocked softly but surely on the door to the D.A.D.A. classroom. It only took a moment but he heard the man’s quiet voice say, “come in.”

“Good evening, Uncle Moony,” he said cheekily when he entered the classroom.

Shock flitted across Remus’ face, then a small smile worked itself on there. “One would say we know each other better in a few years?”

“Or, one would say we know each other better at the end of this school year,” he said happily. “I’ll find out that you were a friend of my father’s while teaching me how to produce a Patronus Charm.”

“And the rest?” he prompted.

Harry took a seat across from Remus, and tapped his toe in thought. Well, he’d just have to answer a bit straight forward. “Well I cannot say, as an event will happen at the end of the year, and it _has_ to happen.”

A pensive look crossed his face. “Did you ever find out _why_ my friends called me Moony, in school?” he asked delicately.

“Oh, do you mean you’re furry little problem?” he asked with a smirk. “Or was that just a badly behaved rabbit?”

That’s when a true smile crossed his scarred face. “Just how remarkably like James and Lily, you truly are,” he said quietly.

“So I’ve been told,” he responded lightly. “No matter, I spend a good amount of time with you in my fifth and sixth year—going so far as to enjoy Christmas together.” Harry smiled brightly, “you and I, my friend, have lots more bonding to do yet.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“Well, I’m sure that my Remus knows, but you don’t and wont for some time,” said Harry. “But it really is thanks to you, that I’m even alive. The best Defense teacher I’ve ever had, and taught me more in one year than I’d thought possible.”

A dull flush worked itself on Remus’ cheeks. “Thank you, Harry; it is the mark of a Professor that his students learn something they can take with them.”

They only spoke for a little bit longer, but even still Harry learned a bit more about the man that had been as close as family that he never knew. Times of war often cause tensions to run high, he knew, and that doesn’t always make sitting for tea and having a chat seem important. But from his experience with war, you should never let bonding become second in life – not when you didn’t know if the person sitting next to you even had a tomorrow.

Knowing that Draco would think him chatting with Remus, he threw his invisibility cloak over his head and took out the map; his first stop would be the kitchens. Padfoot had to be really hungry, if what his life was like during his fourth year was anything to go by. Nobody that Harry loved that much would eat rats, when he could do something about it. No matter, he knew this had to be handled carefully, even if his beloved godfather was innocent, sneaking up on him was not something to be done.

Taking off the cloak while tickling the pear, he quickly shoved it along with the map inside his bag. Inside all the elves were bustling around, stopping as one when he entered. He smiled sweetly when one came over to him, female it looked.

“Harry Potter, sir, I is Wibbles. Is there anything Wibbles can do for Harry Potter, sir, today?”

“Yes, please. I was wondering if I could have some chicken and bread, a little dessert and some Pumpkin Juice?” he asked in his best innocent voice.

“Wibbles can do that, sir,” she announced happily. “Yous just sit down, Harry Potter, sir, and relax. Let Wibbles get yous what you wanted.”

He sat sipping on some tea that another elf gave him, to drink during his wait. Really he never understood why Hermione wanted them to be freeded so strongly. It wasn’t that he agreed with enslavement any—but they just seemed so happy about working for their masters, and pleased when they did a job well done and were acknowledged for it. Now, if they were a special case like Dobby and wanted nothing better than to be rid of their cruel masters, then they _should_ be. To Harry, it was just if the person who owned them, took care of them, gave them attention and loved them as a member of the family and the elves were happy it should be left alone. Like was the case with the Hogwarts house-elves.

Putting his tea down, and standing up when he saw Wibbles coming back with what he asked for.

Bounding over to him happily, the elf spoke. “Wibbles got Harry Potter, sir, everything he wanted. She’s even be adding something’s, as sirs, is looking a bit peaky,” she finished seriously, “he be needing to look after himself better!”

“Thank you, very much, Wibbles,” he said smiling softly. “I’ll be sure to do just that, and I’ll even stop by again real soon and you can tell me if I’m looking better or not. How’s that?”

“I is being agreeing to that, Harry Potter, sir. Wibbles is taking to your health very seriously.”

He laughed under his breath. “I’m honored, Wibbles. And thank you again, Wibbles, you’ve done an excellent job,” he smiled when she practically beamed at him. “Oh, and thank you to all the other elves, you all do an wonderful job.”

Harry left the kitchen with his usual farewell—every last elf smiling, waving and reminding him to stop by again and that they’d enjoyed serving him.

Outside of the kitchen, he threw his cloak back on and pulled the map out. He didn’t need anyone to catch him doing this. And as far as he knew, no one did. Once he had everything situated, he began his walk towards the Shrieking Shack.

**O~O~O~O**

Standing outside the Whomping Willow, everything finally felt surreal. Like an out of body experience, he was really going to see Sirius again. Until now it hadn’t really set in; seeing Snape, Dumbledore and Remus, wasn’t like seeing Sirius again. This was the man he’d come to regard as a father, he was the man that James Potter had wanted him to see as his secondary father if he couldn’t be there.

With that in mind, he took out his wand and hit the knob on the willow, making it less violent. Harry crawled into the hidden passageway and whispered, “ _Lumos_ ,” as quiet as he could. He wasn’t so far gone that he didn’t remember that the man hiding in this place had a knife. One that he’d be waking Ron up within a matter of weeks.

It seemed to take hours to reach the end of the tunnel, to the door of the old house, but really it was only minutes.

Addressing himself, he spoke clearly and calmly – needing his godfather to know he was not an enemy. “Inside this house, is Padfoot of the Marauders’, one of the makers of the Marauder’s Map. His true name is, Sirius Black, he was best friends with one James Potter, who is also known as Prongs and godfather to one Harry Potter,” he almost choked on the words, so close, yet so far away. “You are actually innocent of the crimes that you were imprisoned for, those fall on Peter Pettigrew, also known as, Wormtail. The traitor!”

Then the door slowly opened and Sirius was standing there in all his dirty glory. He decided to finish his speech anyway. “I am Harry James Potter from the future. I’ve gotten sent back in time during a Potions accident in the year 1998. In moth of June, 1994, I will find out that my godfather, Sirius Black, is innocent of all crimes, and the man responsible is now hiding as a rat, named Scabbers to my mate Ron Weasley.”

“Harry…” he croaked out.

That’s when he couldn’t take it any longer. He ran at the man and grabbed him in a tight hug. First he made sure to steady Sirius first, as he was too thin. But no matter, he still held him as if Bellatrix Lestrange was on her way to send him through the Veil again. This hug was a long time coming, really, as the last time he’d done this, he was only fifteen. And he’d really needed his godfather during the war, badly.

“Yes, yes, it’s really me,” he answered softly, before stepping back so they could see each other’s faces. “Sorry, just had to hug my beloved godfather.” 

His smile in that moment made him look years younger. Much like the man that was best man at the Potter’s wedding. “Nothing to worry about, just as happy to see you, too.”

“God, I’m sorry,” said Harry, he quickly bent down to pick up the package that contained the food he’d nicked from the kitchens. “You have got to be starving, no matter what Crookshanks – the orange cat – has been able to do for you. And as long as I’m stuck in this time, I’m going to do something about it,” he laughed. “Here take it. There’s some chicken and stuff inside, and even things I’ve no clue about – when you’re nice to he house-elves they’ll certainly be nice to you.”

Sirius muttered a quick thanks, before digging in. It reminded Harry greatly of the time they’d met him in that little cave outside of Hogsmead, when he, Ron, and Hermione brought him food. That also sadden him – to know that this brave and wonderful man had to deal with such things like near starvation. No matter how much his godfather hated Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place; there was a good thing about it. There Sirius had something to eat whenever he was hungry and a warm bed to sleep on. Was freedom really worth living off rodents?

“Sorry about that,” he said once he finished scarfing down the food. “Been a while since I’ve had anything as delicious as the food from Hogwart’s kitchen.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” said Harry, waving off the apology. “And don’t worry about it, I’m going to try my hardest to visit once a day and I’ll bring food with me. Before you ask, the answer is no, as much as I’d like to enjoy killing the rat with you, I cannot bring him down. You know about messing with time in such a way – the grand showdown needs to happen the way it did when I was thirteen.”

The black haired man just shook his head and muttered, “just like your father.”

Harry spent the most of his time there asking to hear about stories from when Sirius and James were in school. It served to do as he wanted, Sirius seemed happier telling stories about when he was younger and played a good prank. He even got to hear one or two that were new to him, and had him laughing so hard that he thought he might crack a rib or two.

That was the moment he made a promise to himself. Harry was going to make sure every moment spent with Sirius was light-hearted. This was a man who needed a little more laughter in his life, hell, even two years from now he’d need some—it was just Harry wasn’t in the mindset to provide it. On his next visit he’d regale him with some stories of the pranks he’d pulled once the war was over. Just because it was part of the future didn’t mean it was _important_ to anyone else, nor was it changeable.

Plus, when would Sirius Black want to make it so a joke didn’t happen?

**O~O~O~O**

Standing outside of the portrait to the room he shared with Draco, he gave a smile to the woman in the frame before giving her the password. Truly their password was one of genius – nobody would think to use it, and it was something that had saved their lives, started their friendship, and it was said friendship to let them have a romance.

So with a whispered, “magic wand,” he entered their room. The first thing he noticed was that his boyfriend was standing with his arms behind his back, looking out the window. Harry swallowed hard; it was never a good thing when Draco looked so pensive.

“Have a good visit with Snuffles,” he said in a flat voice.

Harry winced. He’d been caught; he then noticed that their window faced the Whomping Willow… Well damnit. He couldn’t play stupid this time, not that he would have anyway; playing stupid and lying to Malfoy only got him even more enraged. That’s not what he needed at the moment.

Clearing his throat, he answered. “Yea, he told me some stories about when they were all at Hogwarts, some I’ve never known about,” maybe he could soften him up a bit. “Er, first I did stop at the kitchens, he’s been starving. You remember me telling you about fourth year, right? When he was living off rodents!”

“Oh, Harry,” he said before turning around. His face matched his voice, they were both piteous. “It doesn’t matter if I’m going to tell you not to go, and that I may get annoyed with you over the fact that you only want to hurt yourself more. The decent thing is to still _tell me_ , if I hadn’t seen the Whomping Willow stop moving, I’d have never known,” it was now that his voice had grown hard as ice. “I. Do. Not. Need to worrying about you needlessly, Potter! If you could please take the time to use what little of a brain you have, you might remember that You-Know-Who is still alive and his followers active. Are you so slow that you don’t understand how much they’d love to catch you Potter? Not only that, but you are Harry bloody Potter from the _future_!”

The insults stung. Only because they left a nasty taste of guilt. Malfoy was not good at dealing with feeling scared or worried for anyone or anything – thus lashing out when he did. So these things did not rile him up like they would have a time ago. If anything, they made him feel worse; knowing he’d worried him over nothing. Like he’d said, he could have told him he’d be visiting Padfoot, and yea, maybe he wouldn’t have agreed but he would have _known_ that Harry was safe.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, shame ringing clear in his voice. “Like you said, I didn’t think. Really I’m too used to 1998 – not having the shadow of Voldemort hanging over my head. And I know, even if I do things like this with my friends, who in the end will end up sneaking up and tagging along with me, you deserve better than this. Always.”

He walked over to his boyfriend and hugged him, kissing him softly on his temple. Soon Draco let out a sigh that seemed loud in the quiet of their room, and melting in his arms. Pulling on the sleeve of his robe gently, he directed them to the couch. Making it up to him the only way he could—snuggling, kissing and talking.

Even if they hadn’t been close when he’d taken that second Killing Curse, Draco was always worried he would lose Harry. Though the blond would never admit it to anyone, Harry included, the only way to reassure him that it was okay and he was really there, was to hold him or be held by him. Touch.

And he would do this, for as long as Draco Malfoy would let him.

“What did you do with the rest of your day?”

Snuggling deeper into Harry’s hold, he responded. “Spent a good deal of it in the library, looking for anything on Time and Potions. It is very aggravating not knowing how this could have happened,” he let loose a soft growl.

“Hmmm,” he hummed. “Something’s are simply because of our will, you know. That’s all magic really is, our core holds it inside of us and the wand is like a conductor; it is our will and what we want that makes it really happen,” he was now mostly talking aloud to himself. “I wonder. . . could we have simply been _thinking_ of anything subconsciously when the Potion touched our skin?”

Draco looked up at him, blinking owlishly. “I’ll look into that tomorrow,” he said ruefully. “I didn’t even consider that. Sadly I don’t always think to look for the simplest of answers.”

“What I’ve found over the years, the bigger the situation, look for the simple answers. No matter how silly it may seem, you will find something if not the solution, it will give you a clue to find it.”

With that, he leaned over to kiss Draco’s plump pink lips. Peeking his tongue out for entrance, he soothed the blond’s lower lip—he could tell he’d been worrying it while Harry was missing. When their tongues met, they had a furious battle for dominance; like all of their kisses or snogging, it was always wild and fierce. Just the right amount of something to get his heart pumping and excitement to flow in his veins. He knew that Malfoy still needed to release some of his aggravations, so he pulled the boy on top of him, giving up the control freely.

That’s when the kiss changed from sweet to aggressive. Their teeth clashed and what was once soft nibbles on the lips, turned into challenging bites that left you tasting the copper of blood in your mouth. The hold that Draco had on his hair turned painful, as did the one clinging to his shoulder – and he knew that his arms had tightened around the others waist, probably squeezing too tight.

From this alone, he could tell that when they were a bit further into their relationship, that their make-up sex would be anything but boring. That too would somehow become a battle of wills – trying to get their point across without words. Or simply punishing the other while it still being pleasurable at the same time. Not that he minded, that was just the way the two of them were together.

**O~O~O~O**

When he woke up, it was to the sound of knocking. Casting a fast tempus, he was able to see that it was 12:30 in the afternoon, on Saturday. Harry had a nasty feeling about who was at the door – and really it wouldn’t surprise him any, he was just as nosy _now_. To be honest, nothing had changed about him much, other than he was a little bit older, with less weight resting on his shoulders.

“Just a moment,” he yelled, getting up quickly and going over to where the clothes were to get dressed. Tilting his head to the right, he was able to tell Draco was in the shower. Maybe if he was lucky Moaning Myrtle wouldn’t spy on him. . . that made him shudder.

Anyway only Harry would have that happen to him, in 1993. It wouldn’t be for three more years till Malfoy got her attention. _Lucky him_ , he thought grumpily.

Opening the portrait, to the surprise of no one, standing outside was Hermione, Ron, and his younger self. If he had to say, they looked a bit like they might be vibrating with excitement – he knew the feeling well.

“Good, er, afternoon,” he gave a sheepish smile and scratched the back of his neck. “Come in, if I know you three, and I do, then you have something to ask… Or say.”

Hermione gave him a quick once over. “You don’t change much, do you?”

“Just a little, here or there,” he answered vaguely. “On the whole? I’d like to think that I am the same Harry, just a bit older. And somewhat wiser.”

That got a snicker out of Ron and Potter – that’s what he was now going to call his younger self – and it lightened the tension a little. No matter how hard Hermione rolled her eyes, he could see that she was grateful for the relief.

Potter sat on the couch, with Hermione and Ron on either side of him. In a since he could see why Draco and others had thought them his protectors; but what others didn’t always see was when one of the others needed to feel protected and safe, that person would sit in the middle. He took a seat on the love-seat, so that Draco could sit next to him, if he chose. And a large part of thought he would. When he felt comfortable enough, he liked to flaunt their relationship, and who better to do this to, than three thirteen-year-olds who’d be uncomfortable with it?

“You look so much happier, Harry,” said Hermione softly.

Potter sat forward fast, and eager look in his eyes. “Does that mean Voldemort’s gone?”

That got the other two’s attention.

“God, yes,” he practicaly moaned out. “Old Snake Face is dead and gone. Such a wonderful thing.”

A dark look passed Ron’s face. “Who died?”

“I can’t tell you. And I don’t want to, but that’s not the point anyway. Bad things happen to wizards who mess with time, so, I’m not spilling a thing about the future. Well other than Voldemort is _gone for good_.”

Suddenly the three guests were looking past Harry, and a scowl worked its way across their faces. That’s when he knew his boyfriend had entered the room. He smiled happily and turned around to greet him – letting him know with words that he was welcome to this little sit down, maybe he could even stop him from letting something stupid and wrong from coming out of his mouth.

“Would you like to join us, love?”

A dark smirk fixed itself upon his lips, and his eyes became hooded. “How could I resist? Spending time with two very handsome Harry Potters,” he finished by looking both he and Potter up and down with a leer.

“Draco, you know that I love it when you get playful,” he told him smiling and got one in return from the blond. He really did love him in a playful mood – his eyes were alight with pleasure and the smile he wore was neither fixed nor cruel. “I’m just thinking, you might be creeping these three out a tad.”

“If none of them can take a joke, it is not my problem.”

Suddenly a greenish tint came over Potter’s face. “It’s true then… I am, er, well I’m going to, er, be close to M-malfoy, in the, um, future?”

“Eloquent as always, Potter,” said Draco in a bored drawling voice. And Harry knew, it was going to end in a stinging insult – one because his boyfriend still teased him about his speech when it didn’t come out stuttering and because he felt a little hurt at the fact that Potter wasn’t pleased to be with him, so he interrupted.

“Draco,” he began sharply. “I’m sorry,” he said towards the three, “he was only going to tease you a little, does it to me all the time, but, you wouldn’t be able to see past the insult. And it would end in a little tiff I have no time or energy for.” He gave a stern look to all four people in the room. “And yes, I am in a relationship with Draco. Even if you cannot see it now, it’s one of the best things to happen to you – just remember things that I’ve lived through have not happened to _you_ yet. So don’t judge. I’m not above throwing out a past-self for misbehaving towards this man.”

The three thirteen year olds, stared at him in awe, like they’d never seen something like it before – and really they hadn’t. Never had Harry Potter ever stood up for or chose Draco Malfoy over anything. In the next moment those looks of awe vanished into glares of anger at Malfoy’s quiet muttering of, “always has to play the Hero, doesn’t he? Can’t leave Saint Potter at home for a day.”

Snorting he snarked back. “Please! If you want to drag in the hero stuff, or my scar I’ve got things to get back at you with. They may not know the story, but I know you do.”

“Oh?” he inquired nonchalantly, but he could taste a bit of his fear in the air. “Do you really think that anything you say could make me shut up, Scarhead?”

The other three in the room were watching them back and forth, like a tennis match. They seemed enthralled; probably because though we were together and all we still traded barbs and got under one another’s skin.

“What was that story from fourth year, again?” when the question was out, he had to bite his cheek to keep from letting loose peals of laughter. Poor Draco looked like he’d kill him, soon. Too bad. “ _Draco Malfoy the Amazing Bouncing Ferret!_ Best. Moment. That. Year.”

“Potter!” he shrieked. His mouth was now opening and closing, as if nothing he could think of was horrid enough to throw back at him.

Ron looked absolutely gleeful. “He was a bouncing ferret? That’s too good!”

“How’d that happen,” asked Hermione shrewdly.

“Wasn’t me! You’d never think as to who did it, but I can’t actually tell you the story. You’ll all see it in its full glory next year—around this time actually.”

Malfoy cocked one eye-brow, and Harry knew he was going to get it. “Oh, dear me, he will. Won’t he my little _Champion?_ ”

Ouch. Yeah, maybe it would be better to just shut up about _that_ year all together.

“Anything else you wanted to ask?”

“Do I really get better with Dementors?” asked Potter so quietly that he almost didn’t hear him.

He pursed his lips in thought. “In a sense, as I can produce a Patronus, so I can make them disappear,” he continued in thought, “even then I still hate to be near them. I have too many ugly memories. I’m like a one person feast to those monsters, but, if I can keep a clear head and think fast enough, then they don’t bother me too much.”

“What I want to know is, who gave you the most trouble about your relationship?” Hermione wanted to know.

He laughed, long and loud. Sharing a fondly exasperated look with Draco. “Most of the girls in attendance at Hogwarts? Can’t remember how many of them would just look at the two of us and pout or cry! By sixth year, if I remember correctly, Draco and I are the most fanciable from each of our houses.” He rolled his eyes to show just how much he really cared. That was for his boyfriend alone. “I’d have to say that it was Ginny, what’s more is pretty odd, because in our fifth year, she starts dating _and_ told Hermione she was completely over me.”

Draco snorted. “Weasley, I know that she’s your sister, but honestly she was delusional,” he finished shaking his head. “Claiming that Harry Potter was her _personal_ hero, and she just knew that her dream of him marrying her would come true when he saved her in his second year – during the Chamber of Secrets incident.”

“See, by this time we’d all been through so much shit together, that neither of you made a big deal about us being together,” he said, snickering softly at the shocked look on their faces. “Ron, well all he said was that if Malfoy made me happy, then who was he to deny me that? Only to remind me that he didn’t have to like the slippery git and that he’d kick his arse if he ever hurt me.” Harry’s eyes took on a faraway look to them, “Hermione, well she just wanted me to be careful. Not that she thought Draco would seriously hurt me anymore, no she more meant of the public and our peers. No matter, in the end the two of them were my united front again anything bad said about the relationship – Hermione grew to be close with Draco after a while, being that they’re of higher intellect than Ron and I, so they’d study while we goofed off.”

“It was because of this, that I grew to respect, Weasley,” said Malfoy. Harry could see that he was holding back a smirk and laugh at the look on Ron’s young face. “See not long after we came out, Weaselette went to the _Daily Prophet_ , announcing that Harry had proposed to her, and I had placed him under some little spell to make him leave her,” he had an ugly look upon his face, when he finished. And really only Harry knew why. With the Dark Mark on his arm, if it wasn’t for half the people who stood up for him, it wouldn’t have been pretty.

Harry decided to pick up the story quickly, hopeing to avoid any comebacks for the blond calling Ginny a _weaselette_. “Ron tore her a new one,” he said with a fond smile. “Even if I hadn’t been happy and in a relationship, he would have. At the moment there were enough rumors being written about me, and for her to give an interview, spreading the lies right from her mouth? That was worse.”

“My favorite, was when you told her she was nutters, and had gone around the bend, Weasley,” said Draco. “If I remember your mother was so thrilled when she read the thing, she had always so wanted the two of them together. But, she had to find out it was false, and her daughter had lied to the press about the Boy-Who-Lived, and she thought of an adopted son? Well that only served to anger her, little Weaselette got a Howler the next day – threatening to bring her home if she heard anymore of this nonsense.”

“She didn’t!” exclaimed Ron. It seemed to anger him, just the thought of his little sister’s crush going that far – hurting his best mate, his brother.

Hermione started worrying her bottom lip. “Oh my,” she breathed.

And poor Potter, he didn’t seem to know what to say in that moment. It reminded Harry of when the papers had been published. He didn’t know what he’d have done if he didn’t have two great friends, who were more like family and a wonderful boyfriend.

“That’s not all of it,” he said grimly. “See, I get along with one of Draco’s friends, Blaise Zabini, so usually every other day, we take turns eating at the Gryffindor table and Slytherin table. It might have been two weeks after the Howler came, she tried putting something in my drink. I saw her lean over the table, and asked her what she was doing, I didn’t see any harm in that – and it would seem neither did Hermione who had see her do it also. Ginny tried using tears to claim we were lying, but Ron, who’d had enough of her shite and knew I had reason to weary of her, and Hermione who could care less about the girl anymore, wouldn’t just accuse her for nothing.”

“Wait!” interjected Ron. “Why did Hermione care less about Ginny?”

Hermione just gave Ron her most baleful stare and answered for herself. “Harry is a dear brother to me, Ronald! So if someone attacks him, no matter who they are, I’m not going to like them, if ever.” 

He looked back at her dumbfounded, “oh.”

“That’s when I arrived at the table for breakfast,” said Draco, getting the conversation back on track. And avoiding one of Ron and Hermione’s famous rows. “With mine and Hermione’s attention on what she was going to do, she was getting scared. Weaselette knew how appalling Potter is at Potions, so she didn’t feel as threatened by him, though she should have,” he said with a smirk. “It doesn’t matter how bad he is, there are just some Potions, that not even he could mistake for something less. And this was one of them, Amortentia,” he stopped with a flourish. Perhaps forgetting that Hermione was only thirteen and had yet to study this Potion.

“Draco, they’re too young to know that one,” he whispered, “maybe you should explain it? I could, but I would use too many words.”

Malfoy sighed, as if this was too much trouble from him – though Harry knew, it was not. He loved talking about Potions. “Amortentia – it is the most powerful love potion in the world,” he said softly. “It can be noticed by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen, and will smell differently to everyone, according to what attracts us most.” Here he let out a dark chuckle, “the problem with this potion is it does not create love, no. It causes a powerful infatuation or obsession; never underestimate the power of obsessive love.”

“That’s horrible!” cried Hermione. “How foolish could she be to attempt something, so – so, dangerous! Please tell me you didn’t ingest it Harry?”

“No,” he said. “I noticed the coloring, same as you.”

Shaking her head, she muttered, “thank God.”

“Like I said, not even Harry could mistake this one. He would have even smelled it when she opened the vile,” he gave a tittering of laughter, and Harry knew he was remembering what they’d both smelled when they had to brew it in the beginning of eighth year. “And why would she attempt something so stupid? Well, like I stated before, never underestimate the power of obsessive love – that is what Weaselette had for Potter, most of her life. To her, it didn’t matter if it came from a bottle, she’d gladly brew it and force it upon him for the rest of his life,” he said angrily. His voice was going lower in pitch and colder in sound, this memory always made his boyfriend beyond angered. “ _I_ , not wanting to draw the moment out any longer than needed, demanded as to why she was trying to slip Amortentia into Harry’s pumpkin juice. She then asked why I had to tell lies about her, so that Harry would like her less.”

“Finally, it got the attention of the teachers,” continued Harry. “When Professor McGonagall came over, Draco told her how he saw the vile of potion and seeing her lean towards my drink. Hermione and I, told her about seeing it, too. And that we too, thought it might be Amortentia. She was shocked, but with the way Ginny had behaving, it wasn’t too far off. She told the five of us, (myself, Draco, Ron, Hermione and Ginny) to wait by the doors, while she got Professor Slughorn.”

“Professor Slughorn…?” asked Potter.

“Yes, Professor Slughorn, our Potions Professor,” said Draco. “Remember how shocked Harry was to see Severus teaching, when we first showed up? Then myself?” when the three nodded he continued. “Severus got the Defense Against the Dark Arts job during our sixth year, and Slughorn came back to teach Potions, he taught here before Severus.”

“ _WHAT?!_ ” came three voices. Yes, Harry knew what they were thinking. How sad it was that the position of D.A.D.A. was given to that git and that they were happy to know someone else had taken being the Potions Professor – they’d all thought it that year, too.

“Yea,” said Harry, sadly. For even though the curse didn’t get the man per se, he still died the next summer. “We learned from him though, hard as it was to admit it at the time. After Professor Lupin, he was the best we ever had. He was hard, harder on the three of us than any, but he was a good teacher in the subject – less prone to anger than in the potions classroom, anyway.”

Malfoy waved off the rest of their questions on the subject. “When we got down to the dungeons, McGonagall forced Weaselette to hand over the vile to Slughorn. When he uncorked it, everyone in that room could smell it and knew what it was,” he said silkily. “Poor Slughorn was in a state of shock – Harry is one of his favorite students, you know.” When Hermione opened her mouth, Draco held up his hand, already knowing what she was going to ask next. “Lily Evans-Potter, was one of the best students he ever taught. His favoritism from her carried over to Harry, and it didn’t hurt that under his tutelage he became better in the subject during class time. Because I _know_ that Potter got and E in Potions, on his O.W.L.s,” he finished with a tiny smirk.

“Really?” asked Hermione happily; probably imagining all the ways to force Potter to study more.

There was a dreamy quality to young Harry’s face, but a smile played in the corners of his mouth. “Evans,” he breathed the word.

“Oh,” he said, somewhat sadly. “Yes, that was mum’s maiden name. We don’t find that out until our fifth year. I viewed a pensieve memory during her fifth year, and I saw dad writing _L.E._ on his paper, not knowing what it meant. But soon after they were in the halls, and he called out to her, ‘hey Evans!’ was what he said.”

Draco gave him a withering look; he knew why. That wasn’t even close to how the truth played out – sneaking into somebody’s private thoughts was not really a good idea. And just calling out to his mother was not all that James Potter had done. But why should he ruin something for his younger self? Dumbledore would probably take away all these memories anyway, and it’d happen just like it should. Why fuel that anger towards Snape because he called his mum a ‘Mudblood’ when he knew himself, he wouldn’t let that go, and the man didn’t need reminding of his worst moment.

“What happened to my sister?”

“The Weaselette was forced to drop Potions,” said Malfoy with relish. “As she was abusing the class, and she had a letter sent home. It didn’t matter that she didn’t force it to Harry, it was the fact that she _would have_. You’re mother, wasn’t pleased by the fact, but allowed her to stay at the school, as long as she stopped bothering Harry,” he finished sulkily. “We don’t think she’s going to – really, she needs to visit a Mind Healer at Saint Mungo’s. For now we’re all watching her.”

“I don’t understand how someone could believe that they love someone that much,” Hermione said in a grim tone. “That isn’t love, it is just a _obsession_!”

“I know,” he agreed sadly.

After that, Draco left for the library – wanting to look up more about how they came to be in the year 1993, and Harry had given him a new starting point last night.

Since he couldn’t really tell any of them about the bigger events of the future, like how they finally break down during The Battle of Hogwarts, and kiss, essentially admitting their love for one another and having a relationship that makes them both quite happy. Or to warn himself against Cho Chang, it really wasn’t worth all she did in return, really he didn’t think she ever really liked him for his self anyway.

He just stuck to trivial things. Like some of the jokes the twins would play – not anything like when they stuck Montague into the Vanishing Cabinet, as that would need too much explaining. Such as: How did Voldemort return? Why was Umbridge teaching? What the bloody hell was a Inquisitorial Squad? 

Still, he dearly wished he could tell them about when they let loose their WWW fireworks and Portable Swamp, then made their big escape on their brooms flying away from Hogwarts. Hell, another to go along with it would be telling them how the teachers all played along with said pranks, and encouraged the Weasley Twins. That and how Professor McGonagall could be seen whispering out of the corner of her mouth to Peeves on how to break something. Fifth year may have been terrible, and Umbridge was a living terror herself and losing his godfather was worst of all – but even he could not deny that their Rebellion was good fun.

In the end, he stuck to safer topics, like how he’s seen Lockhart since that incident in the Chamber. Mainly that he still hasn’t gotten his memory back, but is still very arrogant and thinks too much of himself.

Either way when the three left later in the evening, it was time spent in good fun. It didn’t matter to Harry that he’d never remember it; or know how he himself felt during the exchange.

**O~O~O~O**

It was the next day that Dumbledore and Professor Snape had found a way to get them back to the year 1998.

Even if Harry had wanted to spend more time with Sirius, he knew it was better this way. He just made sure to visit him once more before returning to his own time, remembering to bring lots of food with him. They talked for a little while, and Harry gave his godfather one last bone crushing hug. His excuse was that it’d be a while before he’d get to hug or exchange any affection with his godson in _this_ time – and wanted him to remember though it seemed grim at the moment, but they’d meet and grow to love one another deeply.

He even made time to have tea with Remus, one last time. When the hour was up, it was so hard to fight back his tears, and swallow around the growing lump in his throat.

They might not have been as close as he was with Sirius, but Moony meant a lot to him. He was family, and had not everything went to bullocks, Harry would have grown up calling the man Uncle Remus. No matter, the extra time to spend with this man was a gift that he would cherish for the rest of his life.

As per usual, it was that sharp jab to his ribs that drew him out of his thoughts. “What?” he whispered to the blond on his left.

“Professor Snape has just told us what happened, or were you not interested?” said Malfoy, and when Harry just gaped at him in confusion, he continued. “Hmmm?”

“The information will probably be over my head anyway… and besides, I trust both Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape with my life. They’ll get me home in one piece.”

The reactions to what he had said was pretty funny, all things considered. Draco looked aggravated that he didn’t care more about the solution, maybe he should have, knowing his luck Malfoy had helped greatly in some way and it was how they were getting home. Then knowing his boyfriend he wanted acknowledgement from Harry about how great it was that he helped out, and had he known, beforehand, he would have.

Really it was Dumbledore and Snape that made him want to howl with laughter. The old man’s eyes had widened a bit, then just continued to twinkle brightly, wearing a pleased smile on his face. Like he had always just been waiting for one of his two most important people to win the war to see the man was on their side, and not some coward. And he did know, Severus Snape had the heart of a lion. Snape on the other hand, looked like he had swallowed something sour – maybe he should let him know, they still didn’t get along. Just because he trusted him did not mean he had to like him.

“Really, Mr. Potter?” Snape asked smoothly.

Smiling cheekily he answered. “Oh, yes,” he nodded quickly. “It’ll be a few more years to come, but I trust you with my life. I was a fool not to know you really were fighting on the same side, but, what can I say? You are an excellent spy, my dear Professor.”

“And… how did you come to this conclusion?” he asked again, softly almost dangerously.

“Do you really want to know,” he asked in a solemn voice. When he nodded, he knew that he owed the man this much, so he answered him. “You dislike my father, with good reason I might add,” here Snape’s face did show surprise. “And you will never like nor grow to care for me, and I now know it is not just because I look like James. But I do trust you with my life, because my mother is Lily Evans.” When he finished, Snape took a sharp breath, but Harry wasn’t finished. “You, sir, are the bravest man I’ve ever known. Also you are one of the smartest, if I had ever taken a moment and looked beyond my own feelings I would have seen sooner. I must say, though I did not make your job of protecting me any easier, but there are seven times that _I know of_ that without you I would be dead, and the final and seventh time, was right before I went off to face Lord Voldemort for the last time. I’m very sure that there have been many more times.” What he had to say next, must be said softly – and not let him dash off before he’d even finished. “I’ve spoken about you to my mother’s portrait, after the war,” the only sign the man gave was a twitch in his arm. “She forgives you, and even admitted that you deserved better than she had done to you. At the end of our conversation, she only said, ‘ _Oh, Sev, it always comes back to you, doesn’t it?_ ’ whatever that meant.”

“Thank you, Mr. Potter,” he said, although grudgingly. Harry knew the feeling, so all he did was nod curtly to the man, needn’t make it any more painful than he had to, right?

When everything was explained to the two of them, it really was the simplest of solutions, like he’d said two nights ago. He half wanted to stay, there were so many people alive here; Dumbledore, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Moody, Fred and Snape. His other half couldn’t wait to get back home, where his friends had all the same memories and shared experiences – where there was no nasty snake-faced Dark Lord slithering around, waiting to get back to full power and go on an insane killing spree.

Before he went to stand in place, for the spell to work, he walked over to Dumbledore. There was a lot he could say, a lot he should say. It was really a matter that he wasn’t the best with putting his feelings into words. So whatever came out of his mouth would have to work.

“Sir, I agree with you, you’re guesses are usually correct,” his soft voice sounded loud in the quiet room. Pain and sorrow was etched into every line of Dumbledore’s ancient face at what he’d said. “The road to the end is long and hard, but somehow it was worth it at the end of the day. There are many, many things that you have not told me yet nor will you tell me for a few years,” the knowledge of what they were speaking about, showed on the old man’s face. “When I was younger, I was so angry for that, thinking that it was my right to know it all, if only because it was about _me_. Knowing everything that I do now? I’d like you to know, you’re doing it all right. Maybe you were not supposed to start to love and care for me, but then that begs the question, was I supposed to love and care for you, too?” Harry could see tears forming in Dumbledore’s bright blue eyes, like many a time before. “Maybe it was only what I would have to do one day in the war that caused you to spend more time with me than any student before. Though the fond relationship we shared was all chance. When I was sixteen years old, I told the Minister of Magic, on two occasions, that I was Dumbledore’s man, through and through.”

“Thank you, Harry, m’boy,” he said after taking a deep breath. “Let us get you back to where you belong. I am sure Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss. Granger are indeed worried about you,” he said fondly.

Talking around the lump in his throat, he said, “I’ll bet they are, sir.”

When he got to where he had to stand, Draco grabbed his hand and held on tightly. Harry gave his hand a squeeze back, to say thank you, and I know. 

Harry wasn’t paying attention to the spell-work going on around him, his mind was elsewhere. He found himself wondering if years from now, did Albus Dumbledore, remember this talk. From this day forward till his death, did it help any? Or did he too, like everyone else, simply forget. In the end the only way to know was to stop by Dumbledore’s portrait in the office, which he’d do a few days after he got back. There was no need to rush, in a way saying all this, he had made peace. While talking to the portrait had helped ease him into healing, it essentially couldn’t, as it was just an animation of the man he’d come to respect and love.

He looked around himself in confusion when he felt Malfoy’s grip on his hand tightening beyond reason – next he felt a tugging on his navel, almost like a Portkey.

Harry and Draco were going back to 1998 – back to where they belonged.

**O~O~O~O**

The first thing he noticed was that his back and head hurt. Maybe the fall really knocked him out this time… when he opened his eyes, both he and Draco were in the common room for the eighth year dorms. Both Ron and Hermione were standing above them, looking worried and scared, off to the side he could see that Blaise Zabini was doing the same for Malfoy.

“Ron, Hermione, I’m fine,” he said while standing up.

“What happened, Harry? Where have you been?” Hermione was firing questions faster than he would ever be able to answer them.

Ron had a knowing look on his face, “let him breathe, Hermione. You look tired, mate, so whatever happened to you, just remember to tell us tomorrow? Right?”

“Thanks, Ron,” he said. “Don’t worry, you’ll both hear all about it tomorrow. Excluding no details!”

The three of them caught up for a while, during the time Draco was doing the same with Blaise. When he noticed that his boyfriend was done speaking with his friend, he excused himself also. Wanting nothing more than to be alone with his boyfriend.

They walked to their shared room, holding hands, looking at each other every so often and sharing a smile. 

Once inside their room, he couldn’t hold back any longer. “So, how’d you enjoy your first adventure with Harry Potter?”

“Waking nightmare, you mean, Potter,” he drawled.

“That is another word for it, I suppose.”

Draco walked over to Harry and laid a hand gently against his cheek. “Let us not do that again anytime soon, or ever?”

“I’d like to promise you it won’t, but knowing my luck? Next year, we’ll end up in some mess again,” he said. “I’m glad it was you there with me, y’know? I wouldn’t have made it without you’re support. What I’m going to say next, I had been thinking about for a bit of time, and, well I suppose it just has to be said.” He stopped to take a deep breath, putting his hands on Malfoy’s shoulders; he looked him square in the eyes. “I love you, Draco Lucius Malfoy.”

The other boy was quiet for a moment, looking down. He seemed to be thinking about something, and weighing it over in his mind. Finally he looked back up again, his grayish-blue eyes were bright, and unshed tears sat in the corners of them. “I love you, too, Harry Potter,” he said sweetly.

Draco then leaned his face down, and lightly brushed his lips against Harry’s. The kiss was soft and innocent, almost like he was trying to convey just how much without words. And Harry understood, so he replied in the same.


End file.
